The Methos and Sekhmet Chronicles: The Valkyrie
by VoiceOfTime
Summary: Fourth in a series.  A woman appears from MacLeod's past and Methos and Sekhmet run into some bumps in their relationship.  Reworking of Season 5 Episode 10
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Highlander except in my mind.

Ch. 1:

In Moscow, Igor Stefanovich was watching a tape of himself giving a speech while sitting in a hotel room.

"Come, Dmitri." He said, calling the other man in the room over. "Watch, you might learn something."

Dmitri came over as requested.

"Sit down." Stefanovich told him.

Dmitri did so and they continued to watch the tape.

"And you and I once more to call ourselves Russians!" the tape said. "Hammer and sickle will fly again!"

"Do they not love me?" Stefanovich asked, but continued without an answer. "Of course they love me. I fill their empty bellies with something more than food. I fill them with someone to hate, someone to blame for their wretched lives. Jews, Muslims…Czechians." He paused the tape and stood up. "It really doesn't matter. There are glorious days ahead, Dmitri."

He yawned and looked at the flickering picture on the screen.

"Lousy TV." He muttered. "That's the first thing we'll have to fix." He headed for the bedroom. "I'm going to bed, and I don't want to be disturbed."

"Good night, Mr. Stefanovich." Dmitri said.

As the door to the bedroom shut, there was a knock at the front door. Dmitri opened it to find a dark haired woman in a leopard spotted coat.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I have an appointment with Igor Stefanovich." She told him.

"Impossible." Dmitri said. "Mr. Stefanovich has just gone to bed."

He started to close the door, but she stopped him.

"Then I'm right on time." She said.

She opened her coat and he saw that she was only wearing a sheer negligee.

"If you don't trust me," she said, breezing by him, "you can search me." She shrugged her coat back on. "What have I to hide? He's expecting me."

As she walked down the hall, Stefanovich appeared.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

Without another word, the woman pulled out a gun and shot Stefanovich at point blank range. Dmitri immediately retaliated, shooting the woman in the back. He quickly stepped over her and ran to the phone.

"Hello?" he called as he picked it up. "Hello? Stefanovich has been shot!"

Unnoticed by Dmitri, behind him, the woman came back to life with a gasp.

"Send an ambulance!" he continued to shout. "Quickly! Now! Listen to me! Stefanovich has been shot!"

The woman slowly rolled to her side and stood up. As Dmitri continued to shout, she coolly shot him in the back. After, the only sound was the recording of Stefanovich playing in the background. She slowly backed up until she reached the door, and then she turned and walked away.

* * *

Sekhmet violently wrenched the door open to find Duncan and Joe on the doorstep. Both men could tell she was not happy.

"Come in, I guess." She said, turning her back and walking away.

Joe and Duncan exchanged a look before stepping in and shutting the door. They watched as Sekhmet strode across the room to the bed.

"Is that…?" Joe asked.

On the bed was Methos. He wasn't moving and they could see that there was a dagger sticking out of his chest. Sekhmet calmly walked over and ripped the dagger out of his chest before moving to the desk and sitting down. She pushed a button on the computer sitting there to turn it on and completely ignored the others. A few seconds later, Methos came back to life, gasping.

He sat up and rubbed his chest, glaring at Sekhmet's back.

"You don't think that was an overreaction?" he demanded.

"Nope." She replied, not looking at him.

"Someone want to tell us what's going on?" Duncan asked.

"No." the couple answered at the same time.

There was a moment of silence.

"Duncan, get him out of here before I'm tempted to make his death permanent." Sekhmet said, not looking up.

Methos muttered something in Egyptian and had to move quickly to grab the dagger she sent flying at him out of the air.

"Out." She growled, her eyes bright. "Get out."

"Fine." He replied, seething.

He strode to the door, grabbing his coat on the way and left the other two men to follow.

* * *

Joe, Duncan, and Methos sat watching the 'Charlie Desalvo Memorial Boxing Tournament' from the front row. Well, Duncan and Joe were watching it. Methos was watching his popcorn despondedly.

"What'd I tell you?" Duncan said. "The kid works a body just like Brasilio."

"Nah, you mean Dick Tyro." Joe replied.

"No, Carmen Brasilio." Duncan protested.

"Dick Tyro." Joe insisted.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Methos demanded incredulously.

"Carmen Brasilio." Duncan replied.

"Who he?" Methos asked.

"Middleweight contender back in the fifties." Duncan explained. "Guy hit like a mule."

"Dick Tyro." Joe insisted again.

"Who he?" Methos asked again.

"Middleweight champion back in the fifties." Joe replied. "Guy knocked Brasilio on his ass."

"Aah." Duncan said. "He was lucky."

"The Marquis of Queensbury would have been so proud." Methos said, sarcastically as he picked at his popcorn.

"Who he?" Joe asked innocently.

He grinned when Methos glared at him.

"Oh, lighten up." Duncan told Methos. "Or tell us what happened. Either way you'll feel better."

Methos picked at his popcorn again before sighing.

"I'm sure a lot of women dream about killing their fiancées." He said morosely. "Mine just realized she could actually do it without any lasting damage."

"What did you do?" Joe asked.

"Why do you assume it was something I did?" Methos demanded.

"Probably because we found you with a knife sticking out of your chest." Duncan replied. "Also, you're the guy. If you haven't realized it by now, everything is your fault. Learn to except it and move on. So what'd you do?"

"All I did was make a small joke about an aspect of the wedding details." Methos replied.

"Oh, no." Joe said as Duncan shook his head.

"You really are dumb." Duncan agreed. "You never make fun of a future bride's wedding plans. Never. You just don't do it."

"Come off it." Methos protested. "I've been married 68 times and not once has the woman reacted that violently."

"Methos, this woman isn't like the others." Duncan told him. "She's been waiting for 5,000 years for this wedding. Your role in this is to shut up and do as she tells you, not crack jokes. I'm frankly surprised you only got a knife through the chest."

Duncan glanced back to the fight.

"Keep up your left!" he yelled. "Watch the upper hand right!"

Just as he yelled out his advice, the guy went down right in front of them.

"Not like you didn't warn him." Joe said.

Methos rubbed his forehead, shaking his head at the other two.

"So what, you two, you want to sponsor this…event?" he asked.

"Come on man, Charlie would have loved this." Joe said.

"Yeah, he grew up here." Duncan said. "He figured a place like this would keep the kids off the street."

"Oh, yeah, I can see that's really important." Methos said sarcastically. "You know, 'cause out on the streets, you could get hurt."

"Says the guy who got stabbed by his fiancée in his bedroom earlier today." Duncan shot back.

"Oh, very clever." Methos sneered.

They both stiffened as they felt another Immortal.

"If it's Sekhmet, hide me." Methos said. "I'm not dying again tonight."

They both looked for the source of the buzz, until Duncan spotted a woman.

"I don't believe it." He said. "You can calm down, Methos. It's not Sekhmet."

"In that case, it's time to go." The oldest Immortal said, getting up.

"She's a friend." Duncan assured him.

"When she carries a sword, and we haven't been formally introduced, I get shy." Methos replied. "I'd rather take my chances with Sekhmet. At least I'm pretty sure she won't actually kill me."

Duncan got up and started to make his way over to the woman.

"Mac!" Joe called as Methos climbed over him.

He sighed and Methos walked back.

"You coming?" he asked the Watcher.

"Yeah, yeah." Joe sighed, getting to his feet.

Duncan made his way over to the woman.

"Ingrid?" he called.

She turned and looked at him.

"Duncan?" she asked, surprised.

He smiled and took her hand.

* * *

_Duncan took Ingrid's hands and they began to dance._

"_If you ask me," she said, "your mission here British Intelligence is useless."_

"_Why?" Duncan asked._

"_Because the British ruling class are snobs." She answered. "Because no matter what you tell them, they will never believe they should fear a house painter from Austria."_

"_Does Hitler really have the support of the German people?" he asked._

"_Ah." She said. "The proletariat are always the last to realize what's going on, and when they do, it's usually too late. You know, it wouldn't be so tragic if it wasn't so predictable. They love him."_

"_Incredible." Duncan said as they stopped dancing._

"_Why should that surprise you?" Ingrid asked, leading him over to the table. "Hitler appeals to the lowest common denominator."_

_As they sat down, a young man ran in._

"_David?" Ingrid said, worry in her voice, as she stood up. "What happened?"_

_He was badly beaten._

"_It was those goddamn Nazis, that's what happened." David replied as he sat down. "I'm standing on the corner, talking…"_

"_That's all you were doing?" Duncan asked, looking at the man's wounds. "Talking?"_

"_Yah, just talking." David insisted. "And then those bastards just start hitting me. Three of them!"_

"_Have a drink, you'll feel better." Ingrid told him before looking up at Duncan. "You want to give the British a piece of Intelligence? Tell them that the greatest danger in dealing with a leader like Hitler is underestimating them."_

"_My god." David said. "That's them."_

_He quickly hid his face as Duncan turned to see a group of officers heading their way._

"_Really?" he said, setting his drink down._

"_You're just here to observe." Ingrid pointed out, stopping him. "Remember?"_

"_Look what we have here." One of the officers said. "The loudmouth Jew has run off to his Communist friends." The man looked at Duncan. "Are you his friend?"_

"_Nope." Duncan said after draining his tankard. "I'm his brother."_

"_Another Jew." The officer said before swinging at Duncan._

_Duncan quickly ducked before punching back and throwing the man into the table as Ingrid and David moved out of the way. The other officer attacked and Duncan flipped him onto another table, breaking it. The first officer got up and tried to attack Duncan with a bottle, but Duncan pulled a hidden knife from his sleeve and knocked the bottle out of the man's hand before holding the knife to his throat._

"_Get out of here." Duncan ordered, tossing the man towards the door._

_The other man tried to attack, but Duncan brought him up short with his knife._

"_Say hello to Hitler for me." Duncan said, also forcing him to the door._

"_You're not helping anything, you know?" Ingrid said as Duncan replaced his knife into his sleeve and she went back to the table to get her purse. "What do you think you accomplished with that little display?"_

"_I don't know." Duncan replied. "Made me feel better."_

_Ingrid huffed and took David by the hand._

"_I thank you, my friend." David told him as Ingrid led him away. "But she's right. You may have stopped these two, but there will be more."_

"_There will always be more." Ingrid said._

"_Yeah." Duncan said dismissively as they left and he went to the bar. "Can I have another beer?"_

"_On the house." The barkeep said._

"_Oh, thank you." Duncan said cheerfully, but Ingrid came up and pulled him away. "What?"_

* * *

Duncan pulled Ingrid's hand up and kissed smiled, but the smile faded when she looked across the room and spotted a man.

"Friends of yours?" Duncan asked as she looked for an exit.

"I'll explain later." She said.

She strode over to the fire alarm and calmly pulled it.

"Come on." She said, taking his hand and leaving with the crowd.

A/N: Let me know what you guys think.

Abbey


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Leave me alone to mourn the idea of Methos being a fictional character.

Ch. 2:

Joe and Methos sat in the bar, drinking in silence.

"Oh, go home already." Joe said finally. "You're depressing me."

"She killed me, Joe." Methos pointed out.

"You're immortal." Joe replied. "You got better."

"It's the principle of the thing." Methos said.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" Joe suggested. "I would assume that if she was mad enough to stab you, there just might be a problem there that needs to be discussed."

Methos swirled his beer, not looking up.

"Okay, what did you say exactly?" Joe sighed.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Methos replied.

"Well, if you won't talk to her, and you won't leave my bar, you're going to talk to me." Joe said. "So what did you say?"

For second he thought Methos was going to refuse to answer.

"I said she didn't need to make such a big deal out of it." He said softly. "That it was just a wedding. All I meant was that the important part is that it take place, not all the other stuff. Before I knew it we were yelling at each other about things that had nothing to do with the original subject. Then I said something, I don't even remember what, and the next thing I knew, I had a knife sticking out of my chest."

"You two have been together for what, a month?" Joe asked. "And in that time, have you fought at all?"

"Not really." Methos replied.

"Did you think you two think you were immune to fights?" Joe asked.

"No." Methos said defensively.

"So what did you say that made her want to stab you?" Joe asked.

"I told you, I don't remember." Methos said.

"Bull shit." Joe replied.

Methos sighed.

"I may have asked why, if it was such a chore, she didn't just leave." He said softly.

"Jesus, Methos." Joe said.

"I know." He replied, laying his head on the table. "I'm so afraid I'm going to lose her again, and then I say something like that. I should be killed."

"Well, I think she took care of that already." Joe told him. "Did it ever occur to you that she's afraid of the same thing?"

Methos raised his head to look at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, you're the one who says that you don't get to be 5,000 years old by caring only for yourself." Joe said. "I imagine she's survived the same way. Now you're both trying to let someone in and you're both afraid. But not because you have to let someone in, but because you're afraid that when you do, they'll leave. Like Alexa did."

Methos flinched at Alexa's name.

"Have you told her about Alexa?" Joe asked.

"Of course." Methos replied. "I haven't kept anything from her."

"Yeah, but does she know what Alexa meant to you?" Joe pushed.

Methos stayed silent.

"That's what I thought." Joe said smugly. "What does it say when the mortal knows more than the ancient Immortal?"

"Oh shut up." Methos said.

"Go talk to her." Joe said. "And try not to kill each other."

Methos sighed, but he got up and walked away without a word.

"You're welcome!" Joe called after him as the door shut. "Bastard."

* * *

"So, you want to tell me what happened back there?" Duncan asked as he and Ingrid stepped out of the elevator and into the loft.

"Some Russian politician was assassinated." She replied, exasperated. "The police want to question me."

"Is there something I'm missing here?" Duncan asked.

"No, I just happened to be in Moscow in the same hotel." She told him. "I don't even know who it was."

"So they followed you all the way from Moscow just to question you?" he asked.

"Actually, they already took a statement from me at the hotel." She replied, smiling. "But after I left the country, they ran a check on my passport, and I guess something wasn't kosher. I don't know."

"I don't remember you being so careless." Duncan said slowly.

"What can I say, I haven't been great with paperwork lately." She said, making him chuckle.

"Well." She said, sitting down on the couch and crossing her legs. "What do I have to do to get a drink around here?"

She smiled and Duncan laughed. He got a decanter of wine and two glasses and came to sit next to her.

"Thank you." She said, accepting a glass from him and clinking it against his before taking a sip.

"So they wonder about the woman with the phony passport." Duncan said as he took a sip.

"Serves me right for getting sloppy." She replied.

"Well, I'm sure we can straighten it out." He said, leaning back.

"Oh, I think it's best to just leave it alone." Ingrid told him. "Who knows, they might even suspect me."

"Oh, you?" Duncan replied. "No."

"Silly, isn't it?" she said, laughing. "Although I must admit the world's a much better place without Igor Stefanovich."

"Thought you said you didn't know his name." Duncan said, glancing at her.

"Well I must have seen it in a newspaper." Ingrid replied quickly. "On TV or something."

"Oh." Duncan said, but he wasn't terribly convinced.

"I have a plane to catch." Ingrid told him, standing up. "Time to go."

"You're leaving now?" Duncan asked, following her.

"Oh, yes." She replied. "Too many questions to answer if they find me." She stopped and turned back to him. "It's been really great seeing you again, Duncan."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"What's going on, Ingrid?" he asked as she walked towards the elevator.

"Nothing!" she insisted.

"If you need any help…" he said, stepping forward.

"I'll know where to find you." She finished for him, reaching over to push the button.

Duncan smiled slightly and nodded as she pulled down the grate.

* * *

Methos slowly opened the door to find the apartment he shared with Sekhmet quiet. He tried to make as little noise as possible as he closed the door and set his keys and his coat down. He could see that she was lying on the bed, but she didn't acknowledge his presence. He slowly made his way over and knelt next to her. He could tell she'd been crying by the red around her eyes and nose. She kept her eyes closed as he became level with her, but he could tell she was still awake.

"I'm so sorry." He told her softly in Egyptian. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I didn't mean it."

"Then why did you say it?" she asked, just as softly in the same language. "I thought you wanted to get married. If you don't, tell me now."

"I want to marry you, Sekhmet." He told her. "I'm just afraid that…"

"Afraid that what?" she asked when he trailed off.

He sighed.

"Do you remember that woman I told you about, Alexa?" he asked.

"She was a waitress at Joe's." Sekhmet answered, confused. "You fell in love with her, but she was dying of cancer. She died about two months before we found each other again, right?"

"That's right." He replied. "What I didn't tell you was I tried to save her."

"How?" Sekhmet asked.

"The Methuselah Stone." Methos answered softly.

Sekhmet sat up.

"You tried to make her Immortal?" she asked.

"Yes." He replied.

"What would you have done if you had succeeded and I had shown up two month later?" she demanded.

"I don't know." He replied honestly. "But that's not my point."

"What is your point?" she demanded, anger creeping into her voice.

"My point is, a hundred years ago, I wouldn't have let anyone in like that." He told her. "I've been married a lot of times, but I never really loved any of them. I had lost you and that hurt so much I couldn't even begin to think of letting myself feel that kind of pain again. But then you showed up again and you made it alright. I felt like I could let people in like that again. But then I let Tessa in and it hurt so bad when she died. And then it hurt even worse when Alexa died. And then you came back and you were getting so stressed about the wedding plans, all I could think was that you would realize that I wasn't worth all this and you would leave too. So I got angry and I said things I didn't mean. And then Joe of all people had to straighten me out. All in all I've had a very bad day. And that's not even including the stabbing and the fight watching."

Sekhmet chuckled weakly.

"The point is, Sekhmet," he said, "I love you and I want you to have the wedding you want, but, what I was trying to say and managed to screw up so badly, is that the wedding itself isn't the important part. The important part is when we say, in front of all the people we care about, that we plan on spending the rest of forever together. That you are mine and I am yours for eternity. That's the only part that matters to me. The rest is just an added bonus. So, please, just don't get so stressed about it that you leave, because I don't think I could bare it."

"I'm not going to leave, Methos." Sekhmet told him, gently touching his cheek. "But I am going to get stressed and I am going to yell and fly off the handle. That's just who I am. That's who I've always been, and you knew that. It doesn't mean that I'm going to decide that you're not worth it. I would walk across the world for you, one little wedding isn't going to scare me off. And I will never walk away from you. Not now, not ever. But I would like to apologize for the stabbing. I'm not saying you didn't deserve it, but I shouldn't have done it. Making you watch the fight was Duncan's fault, so I'm not taking responsibility for it, but I will promise to keep the stabbings at a minimum."

"You do realize I'm going to have to get you back for it, right?" Methos asked, grinning at her. "It's a matter of honor."

"You don't have any honor." She said, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"A matter of principle, then." He said.

He pushed her back so he was on top of her as she lay on the bed.

"Of course." She said, giggling.

He quickly stopped that with a deep kiss.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" she asked, slightly breathless as he pulled away.

"Let's see what I can figure out." He replied, kissing her once more.

* * *

Methos and Duncan walked along the marina, talking.

"It's not just the boxing." Duncan said. "The kids need something to do…to give them some discipline. Don't you understand?"

"No." Methos replied. "I'm not a big fan of blood sports."

"Oh dear." Duncan sighed. "So, how late you were this morning is any indicator, you and Sekhmet have made up. No more stabbings at the Pierson-Myles house?"

"No, thank you very much." Methos said sarcastically. "We talked last night and worked it out. I've agreed to shut and not say anything when she's freaking out over a wedding detail and she's agreed to not stab me unless I do something really stupid. What about your friend? What happened to her?"

"She left." Duncan answered shortly.

"She didn't stick around long." Methos observed.

"Nope." Duncan agreed.

"She, uh, mention why the police were after her?" Methos asked.

"She said they were here to tie up some loose ends." Duncan replied.

He and Methos both stepped up to newspaper dispensers and got a different newspaper.

"Oh, right." Methos said. "So, uh, five patrol cars and ten uniforms. That's a lot of manpower to 'tie up a few loose ends'."

"You're an old cynic." Duncan said as they both opened their papers.

"I try." Methos replied. "Oh, look at this, there's an exhibition of Greek antiquities."

"Oh, yeah, can't wait." Duncan said sarcastically. "A 2,500 year old garage sale."

"Listen, some of this stuff could be mine or Sekhmet's." Methos pointed out.

As he pointed at the paper, Duncan saw a large ad on the same page for the New Freedom Party and he snatched it away.

"I believe the phrase is, 'Would you mind if I borrowed your newspaper?'." Methos told him crossly.

Duncan ignored him, reading the ad which proclaimed that an Alan Wilkinson was going to speak at the Seacouver Community Center.

"Damn it." Duncan muttered, shoving the paper back at Methos as he strode off.

"Mac!" he called after him.

"Um, I'll see you later." Duncan replied, not slowing down.

* * *

Duncan made his way inside the Community Center to find Alan Wilkinson rehearsing parts of his speech.

"It's time for white America to stand up." He was saying. "Now is the time for white America to stand up. And remember who we are and what we stand for. Now is the time for white America to stand up and remember what we've done."

"Can we get a sound check, sir?" a man called.

Wilkinson stepped forward and stood at the mic.

"White is right!" he said loudly, the microphone feeding back slightly. "How's that?"

"Thank you, sir." The man replied.

Duncan felt the presence of another Immortal and turned to see Ingrid.

"I guess you didn't leave town." He said, walking towards her.

"If you're my friend, you'll turn and walk out that door." She told him.

She walked past him and he followed.

"Because I'm your friend, I can't let you do this." He said, cutting her off.

"This is none of your business, Duncan." She insisted.

"You can't do this." He told her. "I'm not going to watch you kill an innocent man!"

"Let go of my arm." She told him.

"No, I won't." he replied.

"I'm only doing what needs to be done." Ingrid said.

"What the hell's going on out there?" a bodyguard demanded as they pushed Wilkinson off the stage.

Ingrid pulled a gun, but Duncan pulled her arm back.

"This is not going to help you." He hissed.

The bodyguard ran towards them, pulling his gun. Ingrid pushed the gun into Duncan's hand.

"Oh my god, he's got a gun." She shouted, running out.

Duncan turned to find the bodyguard's gun in his face. He held up his hands and saw the gun in his hand. He dropped it and sighed.

A/N: Okay, so let me know if you liked it or if you hated it or if you're out there. Please? I feel so alone.

Abbey


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I love Methos, so I don't think it's really fair for you to keep him from me.

Ch. 3:

Sekhmet sat down at the table where Methos was sitting in Joe's bar.

"We couldn't do this at home, why?" Sekhmet asked crossly.

"Nice to see you, too, Sekhmet." Joe said, sitting down.

"No offence, Joe, but at home I can wear a pair of sweat pants and a tank top." She told him. "To come here, I actually have to put on clothes. And get out of bed. Which sucks."

"Which is exactly why we came here." Methos told her. "We don't get anything done at home."

"Good point." Sekhmet said, grinning.

"Oh, I so didn't want to think about that." Joe complained.

Sekhmet laughed and leaned over to kiss the Watcher on the cheek.

"Thanks for letting us use your bar." She told him.

The man waved her away, but there was a small smile on his face.

"So." Sekhmet said. "We still need to pick a date, a venue, and decide on what type of service we want. Also, I need to know how many groomsmen you're planning on having, because I was going to ask Aurore if she wanted to be a bridesmaid, but if you're only going to have a best man, I guess I won't because I don't want it to be uneven. But if you're going to have more than two, I need to find another bridesmaid-"

"Sekhmet, breathe." Methos told her.

She did as he said, breathing in and holding it before letting it out.

"Now, if you want to ask Aurore to be a bridesmaid, ask her." He told her. "I haven't asked them yet, but I was planning on having two groomsmen."

Sekhmet nodded and made a note in the notebook she had with her.

"Okay." She said, taking a breath again to calm down. "Venue. We could stay in Seacouver, but I was thinking we'd definitely want to have it on Holy Ground."

"Probably a good idea." Methos said. "Do you have a preference?"

"Well, if we stay here, I sure we can find a church." She said. "But…"

"But what?" he asked when she trailed off.

"I was thinking we could go back to Egypt." She said.

"Where were you thinking in Egypt?" he asked.

"I have a villa." She told him. "It used to be a temple, but in the Roman invasion, it was sacked. That being said, it's still Holy Ground and it's on the East Bank. After the battles moved on, I came in and began converting it to a home. It goes down to the banks of the Nile. I thought we could have the wedding on the shore and have the dinner and reception in the house."

"That sounds perfect." Methos said, smiling. "Just one question: who's temple was it?"

Sekhmet muttered something as she wrote.

"What was that?" Methos asked, grinning now.

"It was a temple to Sekhmet." She said, glaring. "Happy now?"

"Ah, the goddess getting married at her temple." He said, leaning back and laughing. "Seems fitting to me."

"Joe, do you have a knife?" Sekhmet asked sweetly.

"Hey!" Methos protested. "You promised!"

"I promised to not stab you as long as you didn't annoy me too much." She said. "You're coming up on that line now."

"It doesn't matter, because I'm forbidding you two to kill each other here." Joe said. "I'll call a priest and have this place consecrated if I have to."

"No, bloodshed, we promise." Methos said, glaring at Sekhmet.

"Although that provided a nice segue." Sekhmet said. "Who do we want to marry us? We could just get a justice of the peace."

"What about a priest?" Methos asked.

"I rode in the Crusades." Sekhmet said, scrunching up her face. "Christianity is not my favorite religion. Islam isn't much better. It's too bad we can find a High Priestess who knows the ancient rites."

She glanced at her fiancée and saw him looking thoughtful.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing." He said quickly.

"Nope, out with it." She said.

"It's just…" he said, "I met Christ. I saw him teach and heal. I was just wondering what he would think about how his followers are viewed."

"You're a Christian." Sekhmet said, shocked.

Methos looked away and sighed.

"He was a good man, Sekhmet." He said. "He taught good things. He died for what he believed in. I don't know if he was really the son of God, but he gave hope to a people long devoid of it. If nothing else, his legacy deserves our respect."

Sekhmet got to her feet and sat down in his lap.

"If you want a Christian service, we'll have a Christian service." She told him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Although, finding a Christian priest in Egypt is going to be difficult. We may need to import one."

"You're okay with that?" he asked.

"As long as we can still have it in Egypt on the east bank, I'm fine with it." She told him. "Do we know of any Immortal priests who might help us? It's too bad Darius is gone, he would've been my choice."

"I think I know of someone." Methos told her. "I'll just have to track him down."

"Good." Sekhmet said. "So, service, venue, and groomsmen down. Now we need a date." She glanced at her watch. "Actually, I need to call Aurore. I told her I'd get back to her on the color scheme. I also should probably tell her that she needs to make two bridesmaid's dresses."

She got up and walked to the bar to grab the phone.

"You know she's calling Paris, right?" Methos pointed out.

"Sekhmet!" Joe called, getting up and following her.

* * *

At the community center, Duncan was being questioned by an Interpol Inspector Breslaw.

"Are you a writer of fiction, Mr. MacLeod?" Breslaw asked.

"Un uh." Duncan said, shaking his head.

"Smoking was much more agreeable." Breslaw said, taking a toothpick out of his mouth.

Duncan smiled uncomfortably as the man laughed.

"It's a shame." Breslaw said, laughing. "For such an imagination, it seems a shame to squander your talents on my humble self."

"If I could help you, Inspector, I would." Duncan assured him.

"Would you?" Breslaw asked. "Let's review, shall we? You just happened to be here when they are setting up for the Wilkinson speech-"

"No, I was here the day before, for the boxing match." Duncan interrupted. "I was just-"

"And a woman you have never seen before, has a gun." The Inspector continued, ignoring him. "You take the gun away from her. She screams that you have a gun and runs away, leaving you holding the weapon. Do I understand correctly so far?"

"I know how it sounds." Duncan said.

"Do you?" Breslaw asked. "Do you, Mr. MacLeod? If I have learned anything in my relatively undistinguished career with Interpol, it is that nothing is impossible, and no one is who they seem to be. No one."

He laughed and stood up, brandishing a sketch of a woman who looked vaguely familiar. It was an almost perfect picture of Ingrid.

"Is this the girl?" he asked Duncan.

"Um, I'm not certain, actually." Duncan replied. "I didn't really get a good look at her."

"Pity." Breslaw said, folding the paper back up. "Normally when one disarms a potential assassin, one pays more attention to detail."

He stepped back and pointed to another Interpol agent.

"Don't bother with prints, Robert." He told the younger man. "She won't have left any."

"What is this about?" Duncan asked as Breslaw sat back down.

"It's about murder, Mr. MacLeod." He replied, slouching in his chair. "It's about murder." He sat back up, facing Duncan. "Let's start again."

Duncan groaned and buried his face in his arms as Breslaw started at the beginning.

"A woman you have never seen before has a gun…"

* * *

Duncan rode the elevator up to his loft and felt another Immortal already there.

"I'm sorry." Ingrid said as he stepped out. "But you left me no choice."

"Doors and windows were locked." He said. "Elevator needs a key." He tossed the object to her and she caught it. "You've gotten good."

"I've had to." She replied.

"So what have you been doing in the last 50 years, Ingrid?" Duncan asked, taking off his jacket.

"Traveling, mostly." She answered.

"Traveling?" Duncan scoffed, leaning against the back of a chair. "Or running?"

"Both." Ingrid replied. "After the war, I spent a few years in Israel."

"Israel." Duncan replied, pushing himself away.

"With Mossad." She clarified. "And then a couple of years in England with Special Services and then with the CIA."

"You had good teachers." Duncan said.

"The best." Ingrid agreed.

"So what Breslaw was saying about the murders is true?" Duncan asked.

"They weren't murders." Ingrid disagreed. "They were assassinations. There's a difference."

"The end result is the same!" Duncan told her, walking towards her.

"Yes, but some people deserve to die." Ingrid protested. "That's the difference."

Duncan strode past her towards the window.

"Must be quiet a responsibility," he said, not looking at her, "being judge, jury, and executioner."

"Oh." She said softly. "You think I want to do what I do."

"I don't know what to think." He said, finally looking at her.

"I've only killed the ones who needed it." She defended herself.

"How many?" Duncan asked.

Ingrid hesitated.

"Not enough." She said finally.

She walked to the window and he could hear her crying softly. He came up behind her and gently grasped her arm.

"Since when was it so easy for you to kill?" he asked.

* * *

"_I think you will like him." Ingrid said. "He's very good."_

"_It's time that he was here." The other man replied._

"_He'll be here soon." Ingrid assured him. "Just relax."_

_Duncan strode through the Nazi bar, dressed as a German soldier, and walked up to Ingrid and the man she was with._

"_Ah." She said, standing up as Duncan took her hand and kissed it._

_They smiled at each other for a moment before Ingrid turned back to the man. He was every inch the German soldier and he wore an eye patch._

"_Colonel Stauffenberg, Duncan MacLeod." She said._

_Duncan walked around her to hold her chair out for her as he looked over the other man._

"_We've had good reports about you, Colonel." He told the man._

"_You are British." Stauffenberg said, surprised._

"_Yes." Duncan said, straightening and moving to stand across the table from him._

"_I have the papers for a German officer returning from the Russian front." Stauffenberg told him. "You will never pass."_

_Ingrid glanced at Duncan and smiled as he huffed. He suddenly stiffened into a perfect attention._

"_Ich versichere Ihnen, Oberst Stauffenbert." Duncan said in perfect German. "Sie können Ihr volles Vertrauen in mich und meine Fähigkeiten setzen."_

_He saluted and clicked his heels before returning to attention._

"_Your German is very good." Stauffenberg said, smiling._

_Duncan returned the smile as he removed his hat and sat down._

"_I've had lots of time to practice." He told the Colonel._

"_You're certain there's no other way than a bomb?" Ingrid asked as she lit her cigarette and took a long draft._

"_No one is allowed to carry a gun in the presence of the Fuehrer." Stauffenberg told her. "This is our only way. You have the fuses?"_

"_All the way from England." Duncan replied._

_A waitress brought them all drinks and they thanked her. They waited until she was a safe distance away and Duncan brought the fuses out to show them._

"_They run ten minutes?" Stauffenberg asked._

"_You break the glass, it releases the acid." Duncan said, nodding. "The acid eats through the wire and the wire releases the firing pin."_

_Ingrid closed her eyes._

"_Eight to ten minutes." Duncan continued. "We can't be exact."_

"_This is good enough." Stauffenberg assured him. "The device will be placed in my briefcase."_

_Duncan sighed._

"_Alright then." He said. "This is how I see it."_

_He began using the table salt to draw a diagram._

"_The Wolf's Lair, Hitler's headquarters." He said, marking it out on the table cloth. "There are sentries here, here, and here." He marked each on the crude map. "But most important of all is the SS checkpoint on the main road, here." He marked it. "The conference room and the main bunker are here." Another box made of salt. "There's only one way in." He made a hole in the salt line. _

"_There is not a chance in hell he can escape this time." Stauffenberg said, dashing the salt map with his hand._

"_And the reserve army is ready to step in?" Ingrid asked._

"_The shadow government is prepared." Stauffenberg assured her. "Both here and in occupied France. As soon as they receive word that Operation Valkyrie is completed, the new Germany will be born." He raised his glass. "To Valkyrie, then."_

"_To Valkyrie." Ingrid agreed._

"_To Valkyrie." Duncan replied._

_They clinked their glasses together._

_..._

_Duncan and Ingrid walked out together. As they walked down the stairs, Duncan saluted a passing soldier._

"_What is it?" Duncan asked her when the soldier was past._

"_For 200 years, the most I've ever done about war is talk about it." She told him softly. _

_They continued walking._

"_Well, it's natural to be afraid." Duncan told her._

"_Oh, I'm not afraid, Duncan." Ingrid replied. "The worse they can do is shoot me."_

"_Then what is it?" he asked._

"_Truth?" she replied. _

_He looked around and took her hand, sitting her down on a bench. Ingrid sighed._

"_I've never killed a mortal before." She told him. "I've used my sword when I've had to, but always against our kind. This is different. Some of those men are just soldiers, fighting for their country, and tomorrow they'll die. Their children will grow up without fathers."_

"_It's true, Ingrid." Duncan told her, nodding. "That will happen. But something else will happen too. Hitler will be dead."_

_He stood up and walked off slightly before turning back to her. He held his hand out to her._

* * *

"Wilkinson is not Hitler." Duncan insisted.

"But he might become Hitler." Ingrid shot back.

"You don't know that." Duncan told her.

"I won't take that chance." She replied, pushing past him. "He has to be stopped. At sixteen he and his friends beat two gay men to death." She turned and walked back towards him. "At 20, they burned three black churches in the South."

She turned and walked away again.

"Ingrid, if you have the proof-" Duncan said, following her.

"There is no proof!" she interrupted, rounding on him. "He's smart, MacLeod! He's done nothing in years! Now all he does is give a speech and others go out and burn churches for him." She sighed and walked towards him. "He has to die."

Duncan turned his back on her.

"There is no other way." Ingrid insisted.

"There has to be another way." Duncan told her.

"50 years from now, I don't want to look back on this as the day I could've saved the world from him." She replied softly. "Duncan, we're old friends. Don't try to stop me. Please." She dropped his elevator key into his hand. "I won't let you."

She walked away and he let her.

A/N: Let me know what you think!

Abbey


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Please people. I don't even have enough money to buy real food. I'm living of Ramen.

Ch. 4:

Methos burst out laughing and Sekhmet reached over and smacked him across the back of the head. He glared at her, rubbing his head, but the effect was diminished by the fact that he was still chuckling.

"Mind telling me what you find funny about this?" Duncan demanded.

"Nothing." Sekhmet answered for him. "He doesn't find anything about this funny."

Methos nodded soberly before bursting out laughing again.

"Oh, for God's sake." Sekhmet exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

"I'm sorry." Methos said, still giggling to himself. "It's not exactly funny, but pretty entertaining, yeah."

"Just what is so entertaining?" Joe asked as he joined them.

"MacLeod tussling with another of his, um, moral dilemmas." Methos replied.

"You know some times I really don't like you." Duncan said, pacing behind him.

"That's okay." Methos replied seriously. "Sometimes I don't like myself."

Sekhmet sighed and got up to get another drink, walking behind him. He reached out over his head and grabbed her waist so she was looking down at him.

"What about you?" he asked. "Do you like me?"

"I love you." She said, leaning down to kiss him. "It's kinda a requirement that I like you at least most of the time."

"Well, then everything's fine." He said, grinning as he let her go.

She shook her head and tousled his hair before moving away.

"You two are very strange." Joe said, sitting down.

"You try being alive for 5,000 years and see if you come out of it sane." Sekhmet called.

Sekhmet hopped up on the bar to lean over and pull another pint as Duncan walked towards her.

"So I take it we're talking about Ingrid Henning?" Joe asked.

"Hey!" Methos said brightly. "Ask Joe about it!"

"Methos." Sekhmet sighed taking a sip of her beer and crossing her legs as she continued to sit on the bar.

"I don't need to ask Joe about her." Duncan told him angrily. "I know about her. She failed to kill Hitler in 44 and she's been making up for it ever since."

* * *

"_This is not good news!" Stauffenberg said._

_Ingrid drove the jeep down a dirt road._

"_I can't believe they moved the briefing." Ingrid said._

"_Pull over here." Duncan said._

_Ingrid did so and Stauffenberg got out._

"_The conference room is above ground." He told them. "The energy of the blast will be deflected out of the windows."_

"_Then we'll just have to put the briefcase as close to Hitler as possible." Duncan replied as he and Ingrid also got out._

"_Well, leave that to me." Stauffenberg said. "And this time, I will stay to make sure that the bomb goes off."_

"_No." Duncan told him as he walked around the jeep. "I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself."_

"_This is not up to you." Stauffenberg shot back._

"_Colonel, can you imagine the chaos after tonight?" Duncan demanded. "Germany is going to need someone to restore order. And they're going to need someone to negotiate a peaceful settlement with the Allies."_

"_He's right." Ingrid said. "Today is just the beginning. The real work comes later."_

"_I'll stay in the room after you place the briefcase." Duncan said._

"_Listen to him." Ingrid urged. "It's the only way."_

_Duncan smiled slightly and nodded, and Stauffenberg gave in._

"_Come." Duncan said, leading him back to the jeep._

"_The German people will not forget the British soldier who gave his life for them today." Stauffenberg told him. "I will see to that."_

"_If you don't mind, Colonel, I'd rather stay anonymous." Duncan replied as he sat down and they closed their doors._

_..._

_They drove up to the bunker and got out. An older man joined them and Stauffenberg saluted him._

"_Chief of Staff Field Master Brandt, this is Colonel Frick." Stauffenberg said, introducing Duncan. "He's just returned from the Russian front._

"_No doubt you are here, Frick, to explain why the British convoys are still getting through, supplying the Red Army?" Brandt said._

"_I can assure you, Field Master, you will find my report completely satisfactory." Duncan said, his voice tinged with a German accent. _

_Brandt sniffed._

"_It is not I who must be satisfied." Brandt said._

_Behind them, a group of men approached. Hitler was among them. All three of the men turned and saluted him as he passed._

_Brandt moved off to follow Hitler and Duncan and Stauffenberg exchanged a look before Duncan nodded to the jeep. Stauffenberg walked back to it and grabbed his briefcase, smashing the vial as he went. He walked back to Duncan._

"_God be with you, Duncan MacLeod." He said softly before leading him into the bunker, leaving Ingrid with the car._

…

"_Fifteen Km of railroad, destroyed in the last air strike alone." Hitler was shouting. "Fifteen km block completely useless! This cannot go on!"_

_An aide came and whispered something in Stauffenberg's ear. After he moved away, Stauffenberg glanced down at the bomb. As Hitler continued to rant, he met Duncan's eyes._

"_Excuse me, Field Marshal, I need to make a call." Stauffenberg said before making his exit._

…

_Outside, Ingrid was smoking a cigarette as she leaned against the jeep._

…

"_Who is the imbecile who can explain?" Hitler demanded._

"_Perhaps I can explain." Brandt said, clearing his throat._

"_I hope for your sake you can." Hitler told him._

"_If I may demonstrate?" Brandt said, getting to his feet._

_As he walked towards the man, he tripped over Brandt's case. Duncan watched in horror as he picked it up and passed it down the table so it was the opposite end from Hitler._

_As the Field Marshall tried to explain, Duncan tried to get the bomb. He walked slowly behind them, but they stopped to look at him. He hesitated for a moment, and then he dashed to try to get to the case._

"_What are you doing?" Brandt demanded, but it was too late._

_The acid ate through the wire and the bomb exploded._

…

_Outside, Ingrid didn't even flinch as the windows of the bunker exploded outward. Survivors began to stumble out of the bunker and she turned to watch._

_Hitler was one of them._

_She dropped her cigarette and grabbed her gun, pointing it at the Fuehrer._

"_He has spared me again." Hitler said crazily. "I am invincible!"_

_He spotted her and began walking towards her._

"_The hand of God himself protects the Fuehrer!" he told her. "The hand of God himself protects the Fuehrer! The hand of God himself protects the Fuehrer! The hand of God himself protects the Fuehrer!"_

_Ingrid held the gun on him, but she couldn't pull the trigger. Right as he was right in front of her, armed soldiers came up behind her and shot her in the back._

* * *

"Hitler should've died that day." Duncan told them. "But we failed. Ingrid blames herself."

"Come on, man, you are not buying into that tawdry, guilt-induced little melodrama." Methos said, sitting up.

"Oh, I forgot." Duncan sneered. "We're talking to the only guilt-free man in the Western world."

"No, he's right." Sekhmet said seriously. "I killed at the order of my Pharaoh from the time I was twelve. These aren't assassination. Assassinations are done on orders or for money. To kill for her own beliefs, for so long? A part of her must enjoy it. Plus, assassinations are, by definition, low key. At best, she's a really bad assassin."

"Sekhmet." Methos sighed.

"Come on." She said, sounding offended. "Shooting a politician in a room full of people? No, you get close to him, maybe as a lover, and either poison him or smother him in his sleep."

She looked up to see the men staring at her.

"Not that I've thought about it." She assured them quickly. "'Cause I haven't."

"I'm pretty sure there was a point in there somewhere," Methos said, shaking his head, "it just wasn't my point. And now I'm kind of afraid to sleep in the same bed with you. My point was, though, that it's the ultimate in arrogance to think that one person can alter the course of history."

"You can't deny that by killing Hitler in '44, thousands of lives would have been saved." Duncan protested. "Maybe millions."

"I can." Sekhmet said. "If it hadn't been Hitler, it would have been someone else."

"Yeah, and if you'd killed him in '43, like Rommel wanted, maybe Germany would have won the war." Methos said. "History makes men, MacLeod. Men don't make history. I'm talking about the time, 'kay? The 'Zeitgeist', to quote the Germans. If it hadn't been the little painter from Austria, it would have been someone else. Would have been a..I dunno, a shopkeeper, a garbage man."

"The point is, it doesn't matter." Sekhmet interrupted. "The times were ripe for a Fuehrer."

"My point is it was Hitler." Duncan said.

Methos shook his head and Sekhmet sighed. Duncan pointed at Joe.

"You're a historian." He said. "What do you think?"

"Uh huh." Joe said, shaking his head and smiling. "I'm not getting into the middle of this."

"Coward." Duncan said.

"Ditto." Methos agreed.

"You're just upset because by not arguing with us, he looks smarter than us." Sekhmet said, raising her glass to Joe, who nodded in reply. "But it doesn't detract from the fact that you're a coward."

Joe glared at her and sighed.

"All right." He said. "You want an answer? Who gives a damn?"

Methos sat up and looked smug.

"What matters is that it's Mac's friend." Joe continued.

Methos deflated and Sekhmet laughed.

"And he just proved he smarter than us." She said.

Joe chuckled before looking at Duncan.

"What are you going to do?" he asked his friend.

"In her heart she thinks she's right." Duncan replied, shaking his head. "And part of me agrees. I don't know how to stop her."

Sekhmet sighed and dropped off the bar, grabbing her jacket.

"Where are you going?" Methos demanded as she dug his keys out of his pocket.

"I'm going to have a conversation." She said. "Would-be-assassin to ex-assassin."

"You're going to just walk up to a strange Immortal?" he demanded. "Are you insane?"

"I'll have my sword." She assured him, dropping a kiss on his lips. "And I'll be sure to announce that I'm a friend of Duncan's."

"Why are you going?" Duncan asked.

"Because you're her friend." She said, squeezing his arm as she went. She walked a little ways before turning around and walking backwards towards the door. "Methos, look at the calendar while I'm gone. We still need a damn date."

She turned around and pushed the door open, leaving a group of stunned men behind her. Finally, Methos sighed and shook his head.

"What are you going to do if she can't convince her to stop?" he asked Duncan.

"I don't know." Duncan replied.

"Don't you?" Methos asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I don't." Duncan said angrily.

He grabbed his coat and followed Sekhmet out.

"You know you're really lucky Sekhmet loves you." Joe said.

"Yeah." Methos agreed before confusion showed on his face. "Why?"

"Because you can be an arrogant pain in the ass sometimes." Joe replied.

"Guilty as charged." Methos agreed.

* * *

Sekhmet found Ingrid scoping out the Community Center from a room across the street. She opened the door to find Ingrid pointing a sword at her.

"I'm not here to kill you." She said, walking in with her hands in the air. "I'm just here to talk."

"Then why are you wearing a sword?" Ingrid asked.

"Because I'm not an idiot." Sekhmet said, sighing. "Look, I'm a friend of Duncan MacLeod. I use to be like you, so I offered to come talk to you. My name's Eve Myles."

Ingrid hesitated before lowering her sword.

"Thanks." Sekhmet said, stepping further in. "I didn't want to have to deal with the lecture from my fiancée if I got my head cut off."

"What do you want?" Ingrid demanded.

"I told you." Sekhmet said. "I want to talk."

"About what?" Ingrid asked.

"About what you're doing." Sekhmet said, striding to the window and looking out. "For starters, there are about five better spots for surveillance that I can see from here. Nope, sorry, six."

"Who are you?" Ingrid demanded.

"I'm like you." Sekhmet replied. "Or, I used to be. I got out of the game a long time. But I guess you never really lose it."

She sighed and turned back to look at Ingrid, leaning on the windowsill.

"So you think you're an assassin." Sekhmet said, looking her up and down. "I guess you know the basics, but not much beyond that."

"I had some of the best teachers in the world." Ingrid said angrily.

"I'm sorry if I sound patronizing." Sekhmet told her. "My fiancée and I both have a problem with killing, so I don't get to talk shop often. And you may have had good mortal teachers, but they are amateurs to me."

"How can you have a problem with killing and like talking about it?" Ingrid asked.

"My problem isn't with the act of killing, it's with my reaction." Sekhmet said. "I enjoy it too much." She gazed into Ingrid's eyes and the other woman looked away. "That's what I thought."

"What are you talking about?" the younger Immortal asked.

"Do you know the problem with Immortals who try to be assassins?" Sekhmet asked. "We get too good. We keep killing until we forget that the people we're killing aren't like us. They won't get back up. With every mortal life we take, we lose another piece of our humanity."

"I only kill those who need killing." Ingrid protested.

"Ah, to be young and innocent." Sekhmet said, wiping an imaginary tear.

"I'll have you know I'm over two hundred years old." Ingrid told her. "I have been doing this a long time."

"Like I said." Sekhmet replied, her face going hard. "Young. I killed for my king for the first time when I was twelve. I went as a potential bride to a neighboring kingdom and snuck into the prince's room and slit his throat. Then I didn't stop killing for the next five centuries. And I've stopped killing for even longer. Tell me, do you remember the faces of the men and woman you've killed? Do they still haunt your dreams?"

Ingrid looked away and Sekhmet smiled cruelly.

"Do you know, I've killed so many that they don't even bother me anymore." She said. "I loved the death and the carnage so much that I slaughtered whole groups of people. Whole countries."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ingrid asked softly.

"Consider this the Immortal version of an after-school special." Sekhmet said. "Welcome to Assassins: Look at the Monster in the Mirror. That's right it's you."

"I'm doing what's right." Ingrid whispered.

"Maybe you are." Sekhmet said. "But, in a couple hundred years, when you walk out of a room, covered in blood and you see children run from you in terror, I want you to remember this day. Remember me. And I want you to remember that you could've stopped. When you kill someone for no other reason than they were in the way. Remember this day. Remember me when your humanity, your soul, lies in tatters at your feet. Then come find me. I'll take your head for you, because that's the only way you'll stop."

"You stopped." Ingrid pointed out.

"No, I didn't." Sekhmet said, pushing herself away from the window and walking towards Ingrid. "I was imprisoned in a tomb for a century and a half until I had died so many times, I had no desire to inflict death on anyone else. And you should keep that time frame to yourself, because my fiancée thinks it was only the half, and I'd rather he didn't find out."

"Why?" Ingrid asked.

"Because, instead of blaming my bloodlust and insanity, he'll blame himself." Sekhmet replied, shrugging. "He has enough on his conscious without adding my murders."

She started to walk away, but stopped and looked back at Ingrid.

"I remember, that was my point." She told the woman. "No matter what you tell yourself, these are not assassinations. No matter what anyone tells you, there's no such thing. It's murder. It's always murder. And one day, the guilty will not be enough. One day, you'll kill an innocent. And you'll enjoy it."

With that, she walked out, leaving Ingrid alone.

* * *

Duncan walked into the dojo to fine Breslaw waiting with the police.

"We let ourselves in." Breslaw said.

"Great." Duncan said sarcastically. "I love company. Who brought the beer?"

The cops came up behind him and pushed him into the wall.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked as they cuffed him.

"I had a man watching this place." Breslaw told him. "He saw Ingrid coming out."

"You found her?" Duncan asked.

"Where is she?" Breslaw demanded.

"I guess not." Duncan muttered.

"You lied to me." Breslaw accused. "You said you didn't know her."

"Well, maybe she was coming in, looking for a workout." Duncan said as the cop spun him around.

"Where is she?" Breslaw repeated.

"If I told you I didn't know, would you believe me?" Duncan asked.

"I already made that mistake." Breslaw replied. "Take him downtown."

* * *

Duncan and Breslaw stared at each other from across an interrogation table.

"My only vice left." Breslaw said finally, removing his toothpick from his mouth. He threw it across the room. "I'm not interested in you, MacLeod. I suggest you don't make me interested."

"If you think I'm involved in these murders, than charge me." Duncan told him.

"Charge me or set me free." Breslaw said, chuckling. "The cry of the innocent man. I might not charge you, MacLeod. I know you aren't in this with her."

Duncan got up and walked away from the table and began pacing.

"But what you are is a blind fool!" Breslaw continued.

"Then give me a white cane and I'll get out of here." Duncan replied.

"Not quite." Breslaw told him. "What is she to you? A lover? A relation, perhaps? Or just an old friend?" He sighed. "Old friends are the worst. They claim the more of your soul."

"I don't agree with what Ingrid's done." Duncan told him, leaning on the table.

"But part of you understand it, yes?" Breslaw replied.

Duncan didn't answer as he sat back down.

"A little story." Breslaw said, touching both of Duncan's hands as he stood up.

"Do I have a choice?" Duncan asked.

"I'll be brief." He replied, backing up. "Once there was a writer. A poet, actually. But he lived in the dark times. Hitler. The Nazis. And soon, he was afraid to stay in Germany. So he took his wife and son and escaped to Romania. He thought they would be safe there. And for awhile, they had a good life. They were happy there." He reached the wall and leaned against it by the door. "Until one night, when the communists broke into his house. They took him away in the dead of night and shot him. For his poetry." He walked back to the table. "You see? They shot my father for writing poetry, MacLeod. So part of me understands Ingrid, too. A tyrant here, a dictator there. And now there is this Wilkinson, despicable. Some people might say that murdering him is a community service. What would you say, MacLeod?"

"I say you should postpone Wilkinson's speech tomorrow night." Duncan replied. "I want to stop Ingrid as much as you do."

"On that we would agree." Breslaw said.

There was a buzz and the door opened. Breslaw walked over and the guard whispered something to him. Breslaw nodded and turned back around.

"Your lawyer is here." He told Duncan. "And since I'm not going to charge you, goodbye."

He opened the door and left. Duncan watched him go, confusion written on his face.

"My lawyer?" he repeated. "This I got to see."

He grabbed his jacket and walked out the door.

* * *

Methos opened the door and let Duncan pass him. Sekhmet was leaning against the railing outside, looking at a calendar. Two officers made their way up the stairs and looked at Sekhmet, who smiled brightly, making Methos growl.

"Officers." He said curtly, holding the door for them.

As the door shut, Sekhmet closed the calendar and walked over to Methos, wrapping her arm around his waist as he slung his arm around her shoulders.

"Well that worked pretty well." He said, grinning at Duncan.

"Although, I would like some heads up if you're going to be arrested." Sekhmet told him sternly. "I was on the phone with Aurore in Paris. Now I'm going to have to wait another day to plan a fitting."

"I'm so sorry." Duncan told her. "And since when are you my attorney?"

"Whatever you need." Methos replied. "Lawyer, Doctor, Indian Chief. I've got the paper work to cover it all."

"And what he doesn't have, I do." Sekhmet added.

"Of course, I forgot." Duncan said.

He started to walk off, but Methos stopped him.

"Uh, Mac." He said, pointing. "Cab."

Duncan sighed, but followed them. They all checked to make sure they were alone.

"Okay." Methos said, lowering his voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "Watcher records are sketchy on our lady, so I had a chat with the desk sergeant while I was waiting."

"So you know she's committed at least 15 murders in the last ten years." Duncan replied.

"Yeah, which leaves about 40 years unaccounted for." Sekhmet said. "And if my little chat with her is any indicator, I'd be willing to bet that those 40 years contain a lot of bodies."

"The mind boggles." Methos muttered, looking down at Sekhmet. "You're going to stay away from her now, right?"

"Why, you afraid I'm going to fly off the handle and slaughter the town?" she asked.

"Are you going to kill me if I say yes?" he replied.

Sekhmet sighed.

"No." she told him. "Watching her, I remember how it starts. You think you're doing something good until you wake up with blood on your hands and you can't remember where it came from."

"Oh come on, I mean who's to say she's not right?" Duncan demanded.

Methos laughed in disbelief.

"Maybe the people she killed deserved to die." Duncan continued.

"So this is the angle now." Methos said. "The end justifies the means. It's not very original."

"She believes she's making the world a better place." Duncan defended her.

"Mac, that's exactly what he believed." Methos pointed out. "Remember? What was his name? Adolf Something-or-other?"

"Adolf Something-or-other?" Duncan sputtered. "I don't believe you."

He started to walk off.

"Duncan." Sekhmet called.

He sighed, but he stopped and looked back at her.

"Many that live deserve death." She told him. "And some die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then be not too eager to deal out death in the name of justice, fearing for your own safety. Even the wise cannot see all ends."

"C.S. Lewis?" he asked.

"Tolkien." She replied. "But close. My point is, be careful who you judge worthy of dying. You don't know everything."

He sighed and turned around.

"You handled that better than I would've." Methos told her.

"That's because I'm awesome." She replied smugly.

He laughed and they followed Duncan.

A/N: Biggest chapter to date on these stories. Let me know what you guys think. It really does help me. Also, someone made the point that they didn't really believe that Methos would be a Christian. In my head, he would've had a great deal of respect for someone like Christ and that a faith that offers absolution through repentance would appeal to him. That being said, I don't really see him getting along with organized religion very well. So that's my reasoning. Let me know if you have a different idea.

Abbey


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: If I owned Highlander, would I be writing this? Think, people.

Ch. 5:

Outside Wilkinson's hotel, Detective Frayne watched Wilkinson's van drive off. As it moved away, Ingrid walked down the steps.

"Gotcha." Frayne said, comparing her to the sketch.

He looked back up, but she was gone. He opened the door and stood up to look.

"Damn it." He muttered, sitting back down and grabbing the radio. "It's Frayne, patch me through to the inspector."

"Connecting." The dispatch officer replied. "It'll be just one minute, Detective."

He heard a click and felt the cold metal of a gun barrel next to his neck. He glanced over to see Ingrid calmly holding the gun.

"Okay, Ingrid, just relax." He told her. "Nobody's going to-"

"That's right." She interrupted. "Nobody's going to stop me."

"Patching through, Detective Frayne." Dispatch said.

"I'm sorry." Ingrid told him.

"Frayne, do you read? Over."

* * *

"No, no, no, no." Duncan said, pacing around his office.

Breslaw was leaning against the window and Sekhmet was sitting cross legged on the desk.

"Stefanovich, yes." Duncan continued. "Wilkinson, maybe. But there's no way she would kill a cop."

"Are you sure?" Breslaw asked.

"I'm positive." Duncan replied.

"I'm not." Sekhmet said.

Duncan glared at her.

"I'm sorry." She told him. "I looked into her eyes. She's losing control. I know what that looks like, cause I've seen it in my own eyes. Duncan, you know I'm not making this up. If she's killing cops, we don't have a choice. It's either her or Wilkinson. And we can't afford for it to be Wilikinson."

"You came back from it." Duncan said softly.

"I was forced to." Sekhmet shot back. "Are you willing to put her through what I went through? There aren't many places you can lock someone up for that amount of time left in the world."

"She didn't do this." Duncan insisted.

"Then I was right." Breslaw said. "You are a fool. Listen."

He took a tape player out of his pocket and hit play.

"_It's Frayne. Patch me through to the Inspector…Okay, Ingrid, just relax. Nobody's going to-…That's right. Nobody's going to stop me. I'm sorry…I have a wife and children! No, please don't!.."_

Sekhmet was the only one who didn't flinch at the sound of the gunshot.

"_Cause I can't let anyone stop me…All cars, officer needs assistance. Calling all cars…"_

Breslaw reached over and switched it off.

"I told you." She said softly. "She's lost control."

"That was a police station log tape." Breslaw told him. "Where is she?"

Duncan didn't speak, he didn't move.

"MacLeod, that woman will kill anyone who gets in her way." Breslaw said. "For the last time, where is she?"

"We don't know." Sekhmet answered for him. "That's the truth."

Breslaw sighed.

"I hope you have a dark suit." He told Duncan. "Because, soon, you will be going to the funeral of a friend." He turned to Sekhmet. "I don't know who you are, and I don't want to know. Convince him to help us stop her. Maybe he'll listen to you."

He strode out of the room and Duncan and Sekhmet sat in silence for a moment.

"We have to find her." Sekhmet said quietly. "This has gotten too far out of hand. If she's killed by the police and they see her come back, we're all screwed."

"What do you suggest I do?" he demanded angrily.

"I suggest you track her down and take her head before the police find her." Sekhmet replied. "This has gone beyond friendships. This is about all of us, the whole Immortal community, now. Kill her, Duncan, or Methos and I will."

"I thought you were supposed to be the compassionate one." Duncan told her, his voice shaking with anger.

"No, I'm the one who's survived for 5,000 years." She said, hoping off his desk. "You want compassion, go find a younger Immortal." She sighed. "Duncan, I'm your friend, and believe it or not, I really do wish there was another way, but you know there isn't. She has to die."

"Weren't you the one that told me to be careful who to judge worthy of death?" he demanded.

"Yes." She replied. "And now I'm telling you, she is an actual threat to us, not a perceived one. She could bring the world crashing down around us. Do you think you can bring her back under control? It took a century and a half to bring me back to a place where I could even feign control. Are you willing to watch her die hundreds of times, locked in a room with no way out? Because that is the only way to save her. And believe me; it's more humane to take her head."

Without waiting for his replied, she grabbed her jacket and strode out of the office. As she walked towards the dojo doors, she felt the aura of another.

"Heard that did you?" she asked, walking past her fiancée, who was leaning against the wall outside the door, without stopping.

"You said it was only 50 years." Methos said, jogging to catch up.

"I rounded." She replied.

"No." he said, grabbing her arm and making her stop and look at him. "You lied. Why?"

Sekhmet sighed.

"You blame yourself for my rampage." She said, holding up her other hand to stop his protests. "Don't even try to deny it, I can see it in your eyes. You think that if you hadn't left my body, I wouldn't have lost it and slaughtered half of Africa. And maybe you're right, but I doubt it. The madness was already starting to show when we died. Even if we had remained mortal, I probably would've started killing indiscriminately. Do you remember the night of the party? The assassin?"

"Yes." He said softly.

"I tortured him." She said, her voice hard, not giving an inch. "I tortured him even after he had given me the information I needed. I did it because I enjoyed it."

"Sekhmet." He pleaded softly.

"I enjoyed his suffering." She pushed on. "What I must have looked like to the Visors when I came in, drenched in the boy's blood. I didn't have to torture him so much, I didn't have to kill him, but I did. And then, I began killing and couldn't stop. And I can see that you blame yourself for all of it, because you're a masochist."

Methos chuckled weakly and Sekhmet gently reached up and cupped his cheek.

"I didn't want you to suffer anymore." She told him. "You carry the weight of your own sins. You don't need mine too, and you don't need my suffering. That was my penance. It's my weight to bear. I spend every single day fighting against that part of me and I won't watch you fight it too. It's my battle, and your guilt just makes it worse, so please, don't try to take my pain with yours."

Methos nodded and she reached up to kiss him.

"Come on." She said. "We need to keep track of Duncan. This is going to be hard for him."

Methos nodded and let her lead him away.

* * *

Wilkinson's van pulled up to his hotel, where a bag lady was sitting. She got up and began walking towards it and as she approached the man who had gotten out, she pulled her gun. Ingrid prepared to shoot as the man turned and pointed a gun at her.

"It's not Wilkinson, Ingrid." Breslaw said, walking up behind her. "Drop it. Drop it, or you are dead. It's not him."

Ingrid stared at the man for a moment before turning to fire at Breslaw. Before she could pull the trigger, he fired and hit her. She fell to the ground and was still. Breslaw walked towards her and looked down at her.

"What a waste." He said sadly.

* * *

Breslaw and Duncan sat at Joe's Bar, drinking, while Methos and Sekhmet sat at a table behind them. Sekhmet was in Methos' lap and she had her head on his shoulder as he held her tightly.

"You're not driving, are you?" Duncan asked, pouring another drink.

"It never gets any easier." Breslaw said.

"What?" Duncan asked.

"The killing, I mean." He replied.

"Maybe it's not supposed to." Duncan told him.

Breslaw lit a cigarette and took a drag.

"Maybe, if I die a little tonight, it will even things out between me and God." He said.

"It won't." Methos told him.

Breslaw glanced at him and shrugged.

"Probably not." He agreed.

"I hear Wilkinson's speech is back on for tomorrow night." Duncan said.

"This time he is on his own." Breslaw said, smiling sadly at Duncan. "When I was a little boy, everything was black and white, good and evil, you see. Then I grew up and discovered that there was only gray." He put his arm around Duncan's shoulders. "I'm sorry I had to kill your friend."

"The Ingrid I knew I'll never forget." Duncan said. "But the one you killed? I don't even know who she was. You did what you had to do."

"But was I right?" Breslaw asked. "If this fascist scum, Wilkinson, becomes your President in the next five or ten years, how am I going to sleep at night?"

Duncan glanced back at Sekhmet and sighed.

"I would have made the same choice." He said, more to her than to Breslaw.

Sekhmet nodded at him before laying her head back down on Methos' shoulder.

* * *

"They call me a racist." Wilkinson said. "Why? Because I have the guts to tell the truth."

"That's right!" members of the crowd called.

"It's not my truth." Wilkinson continued. "It's not your truth. It's _the_ truth. And the truth is, I can't support a government that is weak, corrupt, and taxes us to death! "

The crowd cheered.

"Never mind everything I've said in the last three days." Sekhmet said, walking with Methos and Duncan into the hall. "I don't want to stop Ingrid, I want to help her."

"Sekhmet." Methos sighed.

"Seriously." His fiancée said. "If I helped her, we'd never get caught."

Methos looked at her and she sighed.

"Of course, then you'd have to find two tombs to look us up in for the next several centuries." She agreed. "But it'd almost be worth it."

Methos sighed and turned to Duncan.

"She's not here." He told him.

"She will be." Duncan replied. "She has to be."

Wilkinson continued to stir the crowd into a frenzy and Sekhmet growled.

"This guy gives me a headache." Methos said, grabbing her arm so she would stay put. "Let's get out of here."

"There's something else." Duncan insisted, looking around.

He watched the man on the stage, something niggling in his brain.

"I'm telling you, Mac, she's a no show." Methos told him.

Duncan watched Wilkinson and everything clicked into place in his brain as he saw the suitcase at the man's feet.

"_Are you sure the only way is a bomb?" _

"That's it." He whispered. "That's it."

He turned and ran out of the room, leaving Methos and Sekhmet to follow.

* * *

Duncan ran out the back door and into an alley.

"Ingrid, don't do this." He called as he felt her presence. "Dozens of innocent people are going to die!"

"Innocence is relative." She replied, walking out of the shadows. "You've lived long enough to know that."

"What about the cop you killed?" Duncan demanded. "What was his crime? He was just doing his job. He didn't care about Wilkinson, and he didn't care about politics."

"Just like those German officers we killed with that bomb?" she shot back, tears in her eyes. "They were just soldiers. Ah, yes, but the price of killing Hitler. Except we didn't."

They walked towards each other.

"That was different." Duncan insisted. "That was war."

Ingrid raised her hand, showing him the detonator and he froze.

"Put it down." He pleaded.

"I can't." Ingrid replied.

Duncan pulled out his sword.

"Duncan." She said.

"I don't wanna do this." He told her.

"We're old friends." She insisted.

"This goes beyond friendship." He replied.

"You'll never be able to do it." She told him as they walked towards each other. "I know you. You're better than I am."

"Please." He begged.

"Imagine a world without tyrants." She said. "Without dictators."

"I can't let you kill everybody in that room." Duncan told her.

"Are you prepared to sacrifice all that?" Ingrid asked. "For what? For a group of arrogant, racist bastards who are no better than he is."

"It doesn't matter who they are." Duncan said, pulling his sword up. "Put it down, damn you. You have no right to do this!"

"But you have the right to stop me?" she demanded. "How is that different from my killing them?" She raised the detonator. "It's now or never, Duncan."

Ingrid moved her thumb to the button, and Duncan shook his head.

"No." he sobbed, swinging his sword.

As the detonator fell from her hand, the lightening began and the crowd inside began to cheer. As each strike hit him, Duncan saw the faces of Hitler and his Nazis interspersed with Wilkinson and his followers. Strike after strike, face after face, until it was over.

When he could stand again, Duncan lifted Ingrid's body and carried her away.

"_When I was a little boy, everything was black and white, good and evil, you see. Then I grew up and discovered that there was only gray."_

* * *

Methos and Sekhmet joined Duncan at his car as they watched Wilkinson's cars drive away. Sekhmet wrapped her arms around Duncan's waist and hugged him tightly. After a second, he returned the hug, leaning his cheek against her hair.

"I'm sorry, Duncan." She whispered.

He nodded and she pulled away, wrapping her arm around Methos.

"Are you okay?" the older Immortal asked as he and Sekhmet leaned against the car, next to Duncan.

"Ingrid asked me something before she died." Duncan said.

"They usually do." Methos responded.

"She said: what was the difference between her killing them, and me killing her." Duncan told them.

"Good question." Methos said. "Right up there with the chicken and the egg."

Sekhmet elbowed him in the side, shaking her head.

"So what are you saying, there is no answer?" Duncan demanded.

"No there is an answer." Methos replied, serious now. "But the real question is whether you're ready for it."

Duncan nodded and Methos sighed.

"Stefanovich killed, and Ingrid judged him." He told the younger man. "Wilkinson killed, and Ingrid judged him."

He hesitated to finish.

"Ingrid killed, and you judged her." Sekhmet said, finishing for him.

"So who judges me?" Duncan asked.

Neither Methos nor Sekhmet answered.

"You hungry?" Methos asked finally.

"Come on." Sekhmet said, linking her arm with Duncan's. "I'll make you dinner."

"And then we'll go have your stomach pumped." Methos added.

Sekhmet kicked out at Methos and he danced away. Duncan sighed, but he let his friends lead him away.

A/N: So what did you guys think? I tried to give Sekhmet more time here because I felt she would know where Ingrid was coming from. Did you guys like? Not like?

Abbey


End file.
